I'm anxious about tomorrow. I'm sure many people are. I can't even imagine living in a swing state, where your vote truly makes a quantifiable difference. The robocalls and all the political courting must be constant and annoying. I've received not one robocall here in MA.
This got me thinking, though. About my own state. There are fewer robocalls here, I'm sure, because no one is courting us; they know where our allegiances lie. This thought lead me to another: Massachusetts, the state I chose to live in, is absolutely wonderful. Now here for almost a decade, I cannot tell you how puffed up I get when I'm asked where I live. I love it here. I love never worrying about which way our Electoral College votes will go. I love that we were the first state to legalize gay marriage. I love the people here, the activism. I've met some of my best friends here. I love that the land here gets preserved and respected. Our crime rates are low and our educational statuses high. I got married here, in a place that's deep in my heart. I love the city of Boston: historic, walkable, conquerable, beautiful. I feel that Massachusetts actually represents me as a person. That sounds crazy, but it's true. Oh, there are things I dislike about Mass, of course. Crazy traffic. High house prices. Long winters. But overall, I feel absolutely in my skin here, and -- for better or worse -- so sheltered from some of the greater idiocies that must plague other places. I really envy the people born and reared here -- I hope they realize how lucky they are.
I'd like to live here forever, but I don't think we will. It makes me sad that, one day, I may not feel the same way if I'm living somewhere else. I don't know what I'll do. I've already left one state for another. It was lonely and weird at first, but it proved to be a smart choice. Can a gal get lucky twice?
Anyway, the point of all of this is to say how proud I am of Massachusetts. I'm anxious about the course the United States is on, and I hope that gets corrected tomorrow. But one thing I can and do rely on is Massachusetts. It means a lot right now.
"To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. 'Can I interest you in the chicken?' she asks. 'Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?' To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked."
If you're anything like me, you're pretty sick of the Democratic primary at this point. It seems fairly certain Obama has clinched it and that Hillary is hanging in there because she's either 1. blindly hopeful, 2. stubborn, 3. silly, 4. part of some vast right-wing conspiracy to oust the viable candidate (in this case, Obama), or 4. all of the above. Me? Don't care anymore. Neither candidate was my top choice, but it seems pretty clear by now that in a head-to-head general election, Obama has a better chance of beating McCain. And that's all I care about.
However, I'm most disappointed in some of the sexism and racism apparent throughout this primary season -- people either voting based on color/gender or voting against "the other guy" based on those same reasons. Are we that stupid? Wait, don't answer that just yet. I want to live in a world where color and gender don't matter, just good ideas. Alternately, I do want to celebrate the historic (and long overdue moment -- other countries have long since beat us to it) where it's possible that a female and a black man can run for such high office. Do I want it both ways -- both color/gender blindness and celebration of the same? Wait, don't answer that question just yet, either.
I don't want to vote based solely on the fact that I have a vagina, but I don't want to vote in spite of it either.
I don't know where I'm going with this, really. I'm sick of so much. I'm sick of the media's sexism in reporting on HIllary Clinton. I'm sick of hearing that black people will inevitably vote for Obama. I'm sick of the fact that our "best" female candidate is Hillary Clinton, a conservative in liberal clothing. I'm sick of Obama's insistence that he is Christian -- because clearly that is the only religion allowed when running for the president of the U.S. After watching Jesus Camp last night, I'd be up for an atheist or agnostic president.
Anyway, the Women's Media Center has put together a great clip video of all the blatant sexism in the media, especially in relation to this primary (see below). I don't have a point. I just keep thinking of that great bumper sticker that reads, "If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention."
Did I not promise you a Jon Stewart update? I did.
Well, New York was fabulous, as always. Cold, but wonderful. After the work meeting (oh right, I was there for work, pffbbbhht), we stayed an extra day to take in some things. Went to Carnegie Hall for a big band concert, saw the Empire State Building (Kurt had never been), ate lots of good food. But the highlight, my friends, was seeing a live taping of The Daily Show.
First of all, by some miracle of nature, I was able to secure two tickets to the show for one of two days I was actually in NYC. This is apparently just short of Jesus'-face-in-a-burrito type of miracle, since tickets are booked for the show about 4-5 months out. However, being the crazed lady that I am, I just checked each day for tickets about a week in advance, seeing as people drop out (losers). Lo and behold, two tickets revealed themselves to me two days before we left for NYC. Whew! There are a lot of "twos" in this paragraph.
Anyway! The doors open at 5:15 for the taping, but it is suggested you get there at 3:30. Yes, that's nearly two hours ahead of time, in 20-some degrees temperature. Even if you have a ticket, you are not necessarily guaranteed entrance unless you get yourself a good place in line (they purposely overbook tickets so that the studio is full). We hightailed it over to Eleventh Ave. and made it by 4:00. There was already a line around the building by then. I was desperate and frustrated. Would we make it in? If we didn't, would I go on a shooting rampage? The answer to both questions was "possibly." Saying I was anxious would be an understatement; I was so preoccupied with getting in that I didn't notice the cold, and I certainly didn't notice my husband trying to calm me. I wanted to bite everyone's heads off, especially the people in front of me. People without heads wouldn't be able to get in, thus making room for me, you see. This was my faulty logic at the time.
Around 4:30, I was cognizant enough to notice Samantha Bee walking up the sidewalk and disappearing into the side studio entrance. In case you don't know who Samantha Bee is, she's one of the correspondents on the show, and looks like this:
Seeing her seemed like a good omen to me (if I believed in omens) that we would get in. I'll just cut to the chase: we got in. And oh, it gets better! Here are the highlights:
1. We got to sit in the second row! I was literally 50 feet from Jon Stewart -- a clear, straight shot, and he made eye contact with me several times!! Or he was daydreaming. I prefer the former.
2. THE BEST: I got to talk to Jon Stewart! Oh yes. Jon (we're on a first-name basis now, I mean me with him) comes out before the taping and takes questions from the audience. You're not supposed to ask him for an autograph or if you can give him a hug (the studio producer briefs you beforehand), but people did ask him some stupid stuff. Example: "I like Bob Dylan. Do you?" UGH. Anyway, I was racking my brain trying to think of something to ask, but could only think of one thing, but it wasn't a question. Did I dare? I raised my hand tentatively. Jon said, "One last question... yes, you." Me! He was pointing to me! Here's the transcript as best I can remember it:
Gypsymoth4: This isn't a question. [beat] Please, please run for president. Audience: [cheering and clapping] Jon Stewart: [turns away, combination of annoyance and sheepishness] I have pictures from college that would prohibit me from running for president. Audience and Gypsymoth4: [laughing]
You guys!! I talked to Jon Stewart!!! And I think I embarrassed him!!!!!!!
Some political guy was on the show, Jason Jones came out, there was a Samantha Bee clip. I really can't remember much more than that. I was too heady. Sadly, security was tight, and no pictures were allowed. I was so afraid of getting kicked out and missing my opportunity to see the taping that I didn't even try and sneak any photos. But, once you're outside the studios but still in the lobby, you can take plenty of pictures. There are posters up all around the lobby. Here are some photos of those:
One of the posters you see in the lobby. Each correspondent has a description on the poster. Jon's was, "Afraid of Heights." Me too, Jon!
A trio of truthiness.
Because I'm super classy.
We really enjoyed New York, and of course took other photos. To wit:
Typical tourist-y shot...
...now with perspective! And Rambo! Also, mini-van taxis: what?
At the top of the Empire State Building. It was cold, y'all!
Kurt, grappling with the meaning of life.
Silliness with mirrors.
Lovely Lady Liberty.
All in all: New York was excellent awesomeness.
*************************
In other news, I finally purchased a grown-up desk. I feel like a bonafide freelancer.
It's L-shaped and made of cherry. Kurt put it together, bless him.
It's got cool frosted doors on the hutch.
I've already got it super-nerded up with photos. Here is a photo of those photos. Meta.
k8land got me this cool planner, and it sits on the keyboard shelf. I just roll it out when I need it, and roll it back when I'm all done!
Art waiting to be hung. The rest of the room is a mess, but... the desk! Is awesome!
Along with the desk, we got a spacious, lovely bookcase. I haven't had this much space on my bookshelf for a while.
Me + the desk = nerd marriage.
The reason I wanted an L-shaped desk was so that I could look outside our back patio to the wetlands while I worked. Now I can! Here's another shot of the view:
*************************
Finally, sometime in the month of February, I will get my hair dyed. I have gotten highlights before, but have never had a full-on hair dye. My hair is virginal. I love dark hair, but I'm adventurous enough to change for the sake of change. I'm thinking of red. Some examples of what I think would not look too grotesque on me:
Or:
A cut might also be in order. I love this cut:
But I'm thinking two drastic changes at once (hair dye and big cut) will make me seem foreign even to myself. Thoughts?
In person. There are no writers for The Daily Show, no scripts. And no guests, apparently. But am I deterred? Nah. I will try to remember every pee-in-my-pants detail for later scribing. And do I even need to tell you that I will most assuredly sneak a cell phone photo, at the risk of security guards throwing me out? If you watch the show later that evening and hear a crazy lady cheering at the top of her lungs and making catcalls, it will be me. Oh, and the husband is joining me. Poor guy.
The time of political self-righteousness, cronyism, backroom-dealing, war mongering, lying and deceit, ineptitude, power-grubbing, and general bad human behavior is (hopefully) coming to an end.
This journal is about to go friends-only. I will be launching another public journal over at Blogger (will e-mail you about it if you're a friend). My identity on the Blogger blog will be anonymous; I'd like to keep it that way. So, this journal will be more personal, and - thus - private.
Thanks for understanding. If you have any questions, please do comment!
Courtesy of Plan 59's Demonic Tots gallery, I bring you the children of Satan - er, advertising. I'd like to comment on the photos I find most disturbing, because commenting is clearly the only talent I have.
And now:
She's so excited to finally have someone's mashed kidney on her white bread.
I suspect he knows what happens when one eats beans, and he plans on sharing that joy with his kid sister.
My god! After years of ham, peas, and slick, gelatinous yams, I've finally gone blind!
What? You don't eat the intestines of your enemies with breadsticks, too? Or while wearing a clip-on?
Personally, I see nothing wrong with this photo. I just wanted you to know that I eat chocolate cake that way, too. All food, actually. No better utensil than your hand! And sometimes your elbow.
OK - I get that you can grill meat in your fireplace. I also get that their flooring is the same as the floors in my old elementary school. I also understand that their mother appears to be having an argument with the fridge. But the kid playing the accordian? Just another day in the nuthouse, I guess.
Nothing phallic to marvel at here! Move along!
I found this one the most disturbing. First, I don't know what it's advertising, but I have a strange craving for chewing gum when looking at it. And second, I think this is a scary glimpse into the future of America, where people wear ill-fitting clothes in primary colors, and where children carry firearms and scowl as a means of communication.
And now, some food photos:
I like to call this "Dr. Kevorkian's Hot Dog Express to Hell."
"Tony the Beat" by The Sounds = one addicting song. Man.
I'm back! I had a great time in MyrtleBeach/Delaware, and I'll do a separate post on that later. For now, I'm pretty busy, but doing well. Some exciting possibilities with writing and freelance, but nothing certain yet. I'll let you know as soon as it's for reals. Then we can celebrate together.
******************************
Last night, we were on the Cross Bronx Expressway, coming back north, back home, and I looked to the right as we passed, to Manhattan. No commemorative lights were shining yet. It was weird. Five years ago, we were travelling in the opposite direction, south, to a wedding, and I looked to the left that time. The smoke still filled the air, even days later.
******************************
My manager tells me I should stop having emotions and get back to work. My manager = me. She's such a psycho.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
gypsymoth4's journal
tired
busy
ecstatic
amused
contemplative
pensive
excited
indescribable